


you and me, between sheets

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 16:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he feels lightheaded, almost drunken from the scent of her warm skin and their closeness, every sense of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and me, between sheets

**Author's Note:**

> all relevant notes can be found at the end.

His wife. She is his wife now. Kirigiri Kyouko is his wife. That term – it refuses to cease reverberating around Naegi’s mind, and as his lips brush ever so slightly over the corner of her mouth, he feels lightheaded, almost drunken from the scent of her warm skin and their closeness, every sense of it.

She is perfectly calm, or rather, she _looks_ so, but Kirigiri’s neck and ears are flushed crimson, her eyes meeting his briefly and then flitting around his face, searching it.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Naegi has her backed against the bedroom’s wall, and he can barely keep himself away from her to speak. Kirigiri’s elaborate wedding gown hangs over a chair, arranged carefully so as not to damage it, while his suit lies sprawled across the floor as though it were removed in a hurry.

Naegi presses kisses along Kirigiri’s jaw line, her long, lavender hair flowing through his fingers like liquid; they’re so tightly wound together that he can feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his. Familiar with her body he may be, but her extraordinary beauty has yet to fail at leaving him lost for words when they make love.

“You know,” Kirigiri’s voice is a velvety murmur, “While I don’t doubt that we could have sex right here— there’s a bed mere feet away, Makoto.” The corner of her mouth twitches as she says it, accompanied with a subtly mischievous look. In a matter of seconds, she’s pulled Naegi onto the aforementioned bed, sitting atop his lap with her thighs locked tightly around his waist.

He stutters momentarily, and blurts out, “Your underwear— it’s— er— it’s very nice.” Thanks to their position, his face is angled right in front of her breasts, and it’s the only sensible comment he feels up to making. She seems to take note of his flustered state, and brackets his face with her hands. The scarred and uneven skin has become something of a comfort to him, and Naegi closes his eyes as he feels her lips graze his forehead.

“There’s no need to be nervous.” Her breath tickles his brow as she speaks. He puts his hand atop one of her own that holds his cheek, and feels the ring on her finger. That same ring he’d dreamt of presenting her with for years— but now it is a reality, they have made it so, and his present nervousness really must seem futile.

She slips from his lap in a rather graceful manner, and kneels in front of him while he remains sitting on the mattress’ edge. Naegi’s underwear joins the rest of his discarded clothing and he chokes on a groan as Kirigiri strokes him slowly, her hand small and careful.

She runs her tongue along the underside of his erection, before easing him into her mouth, and he forgets how to be nervous, forgets everything that is not Kirigiri Kyouko and her flawless composure and how seductive she is and the way she’s—oh _god_ —the way she’s lifted her gaze to meet his without so much as a brief pause.

( _His wife, his wife, she’s his wife._ )

He can’t summon the strength to stop himself from moaning aloud, and finally, when the hot inside of her mouth on him, not to mention the way her fingertips are skimming the inside of his thigh,  and how she’s held eye contact with him the entire time—

 When it has all become just that little bit _too much_ , he stops trying to build the tension any higher and releases, doubling forwards and gripping her with a strangled cry.

Naegi breathes raggedly, giving himself time to catch his breath as he watches her wipe away the mess on her chin and neck, a result of her earlier ministrations. She gets to her feet and sits beside him, pushing his sweaty fringe back and kissing his temple.

“Do you feel any better?” Kirigiri asks. She’s so poised and collected even _now_. All anxiety leaves him, replaced with a surge of confidence that he feels he should take full advantage of. No longer hesitant, he kisses her, bold and daring; the kind of challenge she looks forward to.

They end up in a more convenient position, with Naegi hovered over her, kissing down her pretty throat to the dips and shadows of her collarbone. She leans up against him, allowing him to reach around and find the clasp of her bra, aiding him further by raising her arms so that he can slide it off of her. Once it’s out of the way, he wastes no time in touching her breasts, his mouth closing around one nipple as he feels the other harden between his thumb and forefinger.

Kirigiri’s hands curl into his hair, her breathing laboured. They’re both shaking, but this time—there’s only a feeling of anticipation as his lips are against where her breast rises up from her ribcage, her pale skin smooth and her body pliant beneath his.

He allows himself to move lower, and Naegi’s fingers hook around the edge of her underwear (it’s white and expensive-looking and, shit, it’s _drenched_ ). He can’t think clearly when he kisses from her calf all the way to her inner thigh, because at this point his mind is hazy from the clean, sweet smell of her, how her legs are draped over his shoulders, and how intense her trembling has become.

Naegi holds her hips steady, beginning to lick tentatively at her most intimate of places, Kirigiri’s back curving as she lets out a throaty moan. There’s an area he knows that, when touched, drives her crazy, and while she’s so evidently aroused he has no problem finding it.

When Kirigiri comes, she writhes frantically underneath him, struggling to keep her eyes open as she cries his name like it’s some kind of plea.

( _Makoto, Makoto, Makoto._ )

She’s breathless, and her legs are twitching somewhat by the time he makes his way back up her body.  Naegi’s sure she is completely exhausted, that she’ll have to rest before she’s capable of doing anything else.

Well, until he finds out that she has enough strength left to roll them both over, that is.

Kirigiri’s hair falls around him like a veil, and she smiles, full of warmth. It acts as an endearment, and he’s smiling back at her so broadly that he has a little trouble kissing her.

But he does kiss her— tenderly, hopefully.

It isn’t his luck that has brought them together like this. Calling it luck would be an awful disregard. It’s the result of years spent in each others’ company, coming to know and understand one another. She appears to most as the epitome of stoicism, and yet, he’s proud of his ability to elicit such raw emotion from her, and he swears to himself that the only kind of tears he’ll ever allow her to shed will be happy ones.

Minutes later, she murmurs as she moves over him, her hands leaving a trail of heat in their wake as they slide over his chest, rolling her hips at a gradually quickening pace.

“You’re my husband, Makoto.”

“And you’re my wife, Kyouko.”

She leans down so that her body is pressed against his, and through her short, sharp intakes of breath, he hears her whisper, “I love you.” Naegi repeats the phrase back to her like a desperate man, never mind about keeping his breathing under control.

She reminds him that they have the entire night ahead of them, and that right now, there’s no need for him to hold out any longer. He finishes inside of her, holding her, his face screwed up and pressed into the curve of her shoulder, while she whimpers, unable to keep herself balanced any longer, collapsing against him.

Afterwards, they‘re a tangle of heavy, sweat-dampened limbs that move only languidly. Naegi realizes with a jolt that _she’s right_ ; they have hours, _days_ , ahead of them. Free time such as theirs is a rarity nowadays, what with all the work for the unfinished ordeal that’s still to be rectified, so this opportunity won’t be taken for granted as long as he has anything to do with it.

He strokes her thigh lazily, and the two of them stay curled up like this, no urgent need to vocalize what they’re thinking or feeling.

The wedding vows made prior to this night have already done that. 

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: hey!!! so uh
> 
> ive wanted to write fic for these two for a while but damn this turned out differently to what i expected
> 
> this is set post-game obv and i like to imagine they get married while still working for the future foundation. a wonderful wedding in the middle of a semi-destroyed world seems like a rather hopeful idea dont you reckon


End file.
